


In Support of Tyranny(and its downfall)

by Vel_Rose



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Because toppling governments is cool i guess, Eventual Smut, F/M, HEA?, He goes by Sir Ren, Infiltration, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo doesn't believe in that, Middle Ages, Mild Cursing, Minor Character Death, Partner Betrayal, Rey is a boy but not really, Rey is a spymaster, Rey is also not nice, Secret Letters, Tags Are Hard, The Resistance are the bad guys, Unbeta'd, Vigilante Rey?, Violence, assassination plots, bazine netal is more than side booty, down with the king, duty before feelings, hidden agendas, mutual stubborn pining, not historically accurate, spies and stuff, waaaaay slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:54:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24117571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vel_Rose/pseuds/Vel_Rose
Summary: A tale of a Black Knight who honed his skills and loyalties, of a tyrannical King and his downfall, a Resistance of terrorists, a General who lost everything, and a Squire, who is more than they ever could have guessed.Or: Rey has a personal agenda to fulfill, one that means the destruction of Snoke's empire, feelings for the knight she's spying on were not part of it.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. The Mask of a Squire

Half a century ago, a man named Alistar Snoke took the throne of a murdered king. The rumor was he orchestrated the murder, others said he held a hand in the previous kings' sterility, no matter the rumor, the truth was that a nobody from the castle grounds had the seat of power to three conjoined kingdoms, and land beyond the mountains to the north.

It did not have a name, merely a title, "Kingdom of Alistar Snoke" Or something to the likeness, as such was custom for the previous ruler. None the less, the territories he controlled spanned from the vast cityscape of Chandrilla to the lush countryside of Naboo, from the dense forests and darker tropics of Takodana and Dagobah to the dry and arid graveyard of Jakku and Tatooine. All provinces unique in their own right, all with their own dangers, challenges, and commerce. Each regarded upon a scale of hierarchy, those that held little influence by trade or resources were home to common prattle and slaves, whereas lush estate owners and those with deep pockets earned their influence.

Alistar Snoke knew the ins and outs of these territories well, and not all had accepted his rule, his execution, his regulations. Thus, his knights were born.

Ripped from the vanguard and special task forces they were trained and drafted as the best. "The Knights of Ren" they were called, enforcers of Alistar Snoke's word, assassins when he spoke none. They were promoted throughout the kingdom as wraiths, mystical beings that rivaled forces of nature, that brought about slaughter than peace. Rumors spread quickly of these Knights and of what they could do. Few demonstrations were needed to confirm the gossip.

In this, a growing distrust was born amongst the people, and unease and ill intent by most toward the merciless king. A Resistance was born, scuffed together in the bowels of each great province, the likeness of thieves to nobles gathered in pursuit of vengeance, of rightness within the kingdom. They were terrorists, mostly, bombing, robbing, defacing property and people, the Knights had made them priority number one.

Through all this, and years of struggle, something slipped through.

A young noblewoman, who was raised otherwise, had slipped into the web of Knights, infiltrated their way of life really. Who, for her own sake and not that of the resistance who had tried to coerce her, made a small change in the Master Knight that changed the reign of Alistar Snoke forever.

It started with a horse.

Her name was Legacy.

The usual parade had not accompanied the small unit of Knights, there were three there, two in the forefront on dark steeds that towered over the common folk passing by, and one in the back.

It wasn't difficult to guess why they were there, even so far out in the desert of Jakku, no doubt they were campaigning from the outskirts where cutthroats lived to search for the Resistance. Jakku was just the place for an easy end to an otherwise long mission.

Despite this, she was surprised to see the trio, the Master of the Knights especially. He sat in the rear, armor covering every inch of his body, boots, and gauntlets browned with old blood, a formidable sight atop a dark horse. He was not one to travel with others, sightings of him had reported he was a lone wolf, an expert tracker, and an efficient killer in that respect. It was because of this fact, that she changed her shuffling feet in the sand to pace behind them.

The would not notice, none ever did, for she was nothing more than a common slave, a frayed rope tied about her hips, low to give her a gangling teenage look, and dirty oversize rags hung off her slim and muscled build. Few gave her a second look, the first was that of a teenage boy. No more.

She watched from a few huts distance as they pulled their dragging horses to the tavern. It was no more than sticks, rope, and cloth, but the floor was hardened mud, and seats woven rugs. The wellspring of alcohol kept it open, that and the stall for horses.

They dismounted with a strange stiff grace and entered the flap. Not sparing a moment, she paced closer, assisting the drunk stablehand with the horses, inspecting their packs and inventory. Some were stupid enough to steal from Knights, not she, no she needed an in.

Grabbing a brush and a small bag of grain, she lined each steed up and brushed off the coat of red sand from their dark hair, listening to their steady chewing and drinking. Reserving the last horse, the largest and muscled, she got to work on cleaning grit from the bit and saddle.

Inside, a rather interesting situation was evolving. Her trained ears gathered the hushed threats and even tone of arguing. Her theory confirmed the Knights were in search of the Resistance, sources from Tatooine had pointed further east, to the edge of Jakku. Niima outpost was the last scrap of tents before open sand, the last place the Resistance had been seen.

She held a slight curve of her lips, her own informants had something similar to investigate. A body hit the dirt at the front and she turned to catch a simple bar hand cowering on the ground. Dust kicked up about him and another Knight, his knees pulled to his chest, eyes wide, "Mercy!" He cried, no older than a teen.

The Knight, voice grainy, held familiar lit in his accusations, an accent she had not heard from another mouth but hers, "I have reason to believe your skulking around is cause for suspicion, hidden right under our noses we have an informant," His iron boot found itself imbedded into the ribs of the boy, she watched on with quiet interest.

"I know nothing!" The boy cried, moving into a fetal position,

"Lies," The boot, again, "The Resistance was here, we know that there is a supply house here, trading with them and arming them, where is it!?"

"I don't know!" A leather hand dug into the boy's ratty hair, pulling him up from the ground,

"I have no qualms of killing you, boy, tell me what I need to know, " His cries stretched out into the hardened mud streets, attracting attention. Her own was drawn to the crowd in search of unfamiliar faces. She spotted one, shifting among the people, well-fed build hunched purposefully to avoid detection. There, the true informant.

From this distance she could make out a distinct male face, dark hair, long nose, darker skin, but he was not gaunt. If the Knights efficiency was anything to go by, they had already found what they needed.

A shadow passed over her, hands still brushing the steed. She looked up, steeling her expression to the shockingly silent approach of the Master of the Knights. His attention, though concealed, was strictly on her from the other side of the horse, his voice was grated from the steel housing, but dark, "You are not the stable hand,"

"He is drunk Sir," She said, flattening her tongue to avoid being distinct. Her eyes flicked back to the crowd and noticed the suspect had slipped away amid the sounds of wet beating and cries. She tilted her chin down, showing submission and hiding her face from his sharp gaze. He was a smart man, brutal and efficient, he would slaughter her in seconds.

"You carry no arms, boy," He stated, "Yet you stand as though you can fight, where is your master?" She paused, considering her answer. The Master of Knights had taken an interest in her, it was what she needed, but also dangerous, her hope had been to attract the attention of the others.

"Dead, Sir," It was true, vague, as he was murdered by her own hand, she moved to check the grains and was met with the towering figure across from her.

"You are a Squire," He surmised, helmet tilted toward the horses and care,

"And stablehand, Sir," She injected, needing to be useful, but not nearly as close as a Squire to his master. A noise of consideration moved through the Knights chest, and he gripped the knotted reins.

"Can you write?" A single nod was her answer, sequestering herself to speaking as little as possible. She did not desire a fondness or familiarity to form between her and the Knight, not if she carried through.

"Good," He spoke, removing the grains from his horse, and ensuring it had enough water by bringing a dish to its nose. His voice was hard next, "You are now in my employ boy, your first duty is to learn the needs of my mare, her name is Legacy, know it well and she will never fail you." His huge body swung up into the fine saddle with ease, and she stepped back once to afford room, sensing he was not yet done talking with her.

The other Knights quickly did the same, seemingly finished beating a bar hand and satisfied with what they ripped from him, nothing she didn't already know. She stared up at the Master Knight and waited as his horse disturbed the sand, "Travel to Coruscant, I have a residence there, I expect you in a fortnight, ready for your duties," He gently kicked his horse, and then, as an afterthought, turned her around as his Knights passed, "What are you called, boy?"

"Rey, Sir," dipping her chin in a slight bow as he turned his horse, satisfied. She waited to lift her gaze until the shifting of sand could no longer be heard with the clink of metal.

Her spine stiffened as she stood straight, fists clenched, a new satisfaction rising within her. It was not what she planned, it was better, all she had left was to prepare.

Two weeks was hardly the time she needed to find a steed and some shoddy leather armor. In that time, however, she encountered a fellow tent slicker, who went by the name of Finn.

He sat in her tent, lighting a candle and dirtying her rug a few days later.

She paused with her dirty fingers gripping the tent flap, narrowing her eyes at a familiar yellowed cloak he now wore, "Finn," She said by way of greeting. The dark young man turned and put a smile on, "There you are, I've been looking for you a few days, did you see what happened to Thomas?"

"The bar hand, yes," She pursed her lips, "The cloak is new," She pointed out, and watched him squirm with keen eyes.

They held a pact, the two of them. Both street urchins in a backwater tent post, bordering a grave of sand, they only had each other, a blood oath of cut palms and held hands, they swore never to abandon each other, never to lie or cheat, because they were a pair above all the rest.

Yet his nervous ticks remained, his mouth twitched and gaze dropped, "I pawned it off a passing trader from Takodana, yellow is a nice color amid the red,"

"No, you got it from the Resistance informant," She corrected, watching as his face paled, he scrabbled to her feet, touching her beaten cloth coverings with shaking fingers.

"You can't tell them," He hushed, and slowly, she crouched eye level to her friend,

"You promised me you wouldn't get involved Finn,"

"I know what you're planning, isn't that getting involved?" He asked, bolder now,

"They'll kill you," She warned, emotional over the thought of his death, "I cannot allow that."

"They will make an example of you, Rey, tell me, what is worse, spying for one's own gain, or working for a better kingdom?" Rey blinked, frowning at him, she did not need this argument, she had his support of her actions in the past, what changed?

"Well, tell me then, what did he say?" She straightened her legs and moved over to her cot and a small bundle of belongings. Rummaging through and taking inventory of personal effects by touch as Finn hesitated.

She passed a quick glance over his shoulder, and saw him braced for reprimand, she tisked and resumed, waiting for his words as she lay out her travel items. They came slowly, "He didn't give me a name, only that he was highly ranked among his group, that he was working for a ghost," She dropped her small amount of clothing into an animal skin roll, stuffing matches, oils and medicines in nooks, "He said they're planning something big, that they are recruiting from nobles in the castle," She looked up at this, an eyebrow raised, "They seem to have a lot of influence."

"You want to join the fight," Rey surmised, horrified but accepting,

"They're doing real good, I can see the changes they've made in the outskirts,"

"There's nothing to change in the outskirts Finn, they are under the impression that once the head of a snake is cut off, the body dies," She shoved her only weapon atop the rolled bundle and tied it fiercely, "What do they plan to do, once they've abolished Alistar Snoke? Do they have a plan beyond his death?" She looked up at her friends' wilting form and took pity, relaxing her grip on leather ties.

"You do not support them?"

"I do not support willful ignorance," Rey clarified, then sighed softly, "But I support you, Finn,"

"Rey-"

"It is dangerous, you will need to show focus-"

"I know," He placated, "Where are you going?" Her fingers searched for a groove in the hardened sand beneath her cot, digging in once found and pulling up a hidden board of wood and hole.

"I am now in the employ of the Master of the Knights of Ren, I will work as his Squire for the foreseeable future," A long beat of silence fell in the tent, only the flicker of a candle and jingle of old coin filling the air.

"What?" Finn rasped eventually, climbing to his feet to better look for a ruse on her face. Finding none he continued, "You can't, it will kill you-he will kill you,"

"It must be done, it wasn't what we planned-" He stepped closer and gripped her arms,

"You mustn't go,"

"He knows my face, Finn, I must," A slow horror settled onto Finn's expression, Rey offered a slight lit to her smile, patting his shoulder, "I'm no good at goodbye's Finn, don't make this hard,"

Breath rushed from her as he tugged her into an embrace, squeezing her small bones.

"I will see you, in the Resistance, we will see each other again," He promised her, she tried not to hold too tightly to it but nodded into his shoulder.

In the night, she bid farewell to her empty and dark tent, brushed her fingers on a cot she may never see again, parted the flaps and took a long look at a small space that she could call her own. She would never see it again, anything left behind would be squatted or stolen. A single nod goodbye and she turned into the early morning, walking the long path toward Coruscant.

The journey took her a sen-night to arrive at the outskirts of the large city, the castle itself looming in the distance. She eyed it all warily, tired from her long journey on foot, and worn from the elements she was exposed to.

Her journey would have been much easier had she taken the merchant routes, but her knowledge of common bandits led her into woods ruled by animals of a different kind. Her feet were sore, and body rigid, but she did not regret her travel, it had been a long time since she felt rain on her skin, and she reveled in the recent memory.

The cobbled road below supplied a harder surface than the loose leaves and roots riddled forest, she was glad for it.

Her eyes took in the late morning bustle of the city limit, servants and slaves, working men and women walked about briskly, chattering to each other, and conducting business. The scent of a bakery wafted from somewhere deeper in the city, paired with the hard smell of iron and heat from a nearby blacksmith. There was less open area and more hidden alleyway than she expected, she made a mental note for her informants.

A few rounds of askance led her deeper in the city, her sand coated skin and clothes stood out in the vast river of color, deep reds, blues, greens, and yellows flashed about, cotton white blouses and work dresses clean of any stain or dirt, and she found herself envious.

How wealthy the common thief must have been in the city.

Her journey came to a pause at the entrance of the Knights dwelling, though upon closer inspection, it did not seem to be in frequent use.

She shuffled a bit, slightly out of place as she rasped her knuckles on the heavy door. A beat passed before a man opened it slowly, eyes passing judgment before opening it wider, "The new Squire I presume?"

"The Master of the Knights dwelling?" She asked back, the man's eye twitched,

"You are directed to his private home out in the countryside, you will be most useful there," He sniffed, "There is a horse ready for you, and, a suit of leathers was crafted for you. Your duties begin when you arrive." The door shut in her face, and her fingers tightened into a fist, dipping her head to remind herself she stepped around to the small stable in the back. A chocolate mare stood in wait for her, smaller than the Knights horse, but suitable.

It took minutes for her to prepare the horse and mount, the leather tied onto a side bag. The shoes sparking slightly with every step on the cobbled road, she drew a hood to avoid the eyes of those around her, and took back in the direction of the Naboo countryside, mountains looming in the distance.

* * *

Heavy wooden doors, decorated and inlay with silver pulled open upon the stormy arrival of the Knights, the same trio in Jakku many nights before. In tow, was a man in rags, a bag over his head and hands tied, his body was bloody on the dark red carpets below.

The king, Alistar Snoke, old and decrepit leaned forward on thin limbs and gnarled fingers, sneering as the Master of Knights took a knee. The room falling silent from the commotion once more, all other entities had made themselves scarce in their arrival.

"My Knights of Ren," Snoke addressed, leaning back and frowning, "What have you brought me? Speak,"

"King Snoke," The master of the Knights began, "The Knights have recovered an informant of the Resistance, responsible for smuggling supplies from a Jakku warehouse," The Knight did not move from his crouched position, awaiting the approval from Snoke.

"Reveal him to me," Snoke commanded, and the bag was ripped from his head. Snoke leaned back in approval once more, tapping his ringed fingers on the arm of his throne, "Ahh, Poe Dameron, you're Richards boy,"

The man in question, though beaten ruthlessly, spat blood on the floor in response, Snoke chortled at the man, "You have anger for your parent's death, they were traitors, like you. You'll join them soon enough," Snoke waved a hand summoning a soldier to grab the new prisoner, "Take him to the dungeon, we aren't finished yet," Poe grunted as he was dragged and ripped to his broken feet, stumbling as he left the chamber.

Silence passed again in the cursed hall, "You have done well Knights, leave us," Snoke commanded, mouth pressing firm as he gripped the arms in his chair, "Rise, Ren," The Knight did as he bid, waiting, "It has come to my attention you obtained a new Squire, I do not remember giving permission to train a boy,"

"A Squire has other duties than to become a Knight," Ren pointed out, knowing that his actions were inexcusable, and awaiting the reprimand for it. His gut had firmed when he spoke with the young man however, and Legacy had taken a liking immediately, he could not ignore the instinct that had saved his life and given success before.

"I have no need of a new Knight, Ren, and you have no need of a distraction,"

"The boy is tough, my Lord, he will not require the mothering the last did,"

"We shall see," Snoke paused, considering the strange protectiveness of his Knight, "I am assigning you to a separate task from the resistance, the provincials near Hoth have been experiencing strange occurrences in their mountain passes, I want you to investigate, and slay whatever gets in your way."

Knight Ren bowed again, "It will be done,"

"Ren, do take this new Squire with you, we shall see how well they last."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: So I've shortened the'se chapters considerably, as having only 8 chapters and 60k words is a bit much to grasp. I feel that by shortening the chapters the story will flow better as well.


	2. Weighted Words and Weighted Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey arrives to the Naboo estate. She is given her assignment, and Rey receives a request.

Naboo was beautiful, even from a distance, in the light of an early evening it bathed golden fields a fiery orange. Rey's horse trotted happily down wagon worn dirt paths, though she suspected that the Knights property was already beneath her. In a short distance there lay a grove of trees, and what looked to be a small fortress slowly alighting its windows.

It was at the foot of a mountain by a distance and concealed from the back by a dense forest, this was a fortified location, built to withstand an invasion. Even sitting among the idealistic beauty around it, the purpose to face war could not be concealed, even so, the closer she got to the abode, the more uneasy she grew.

She knew of gossip surrounding the Knights and their Master, the influence of King Alistar Snoke. She could not be one to quickly judge however, she knew very few facts in the face of this challenge. She would do what she could, what she must, to gain an in to the castle, to Alistar Snoke, and his Knights were the perfect way to go about it.

A further analysis was required into the Knight she now worked for, while her contacts had leagues of knowledge, very little of it was verified. It was known, his name was Kylo Ren, that he was made master for his battle prowess, and his strategic ability in the heat of war. He was an expert tracker, and while he held an outward calm, he was known to be very explosive in anger. Something for her to avoid when communicating with him.

The road led to a fork between the outer stable and gardens, and the main fortress. Her steed rolled toward the stables and she rolled her tired body off the equestrian as soon as she scented hay and oats. Her horse whinnied and moved quickly towards the food, and Rey set to removing the little personal luggage she had. Once the tack and saddle were hung, she led the unnamed mare into an empty stall and took off toward what sounded like a personal blacksmithy.

A young man was what she discovered, a well-built shack and forge surrounded his workstation, a bench and grindstone were off to the side, tools scattered about and hung simultaneously on the wall. The young man fed air to the fire, pulling its billows, and continued to pound on the beginnings of a sword. Rey stood by, the leather armor coming to mind as she spoke, "Smithy, do you have a name?" She called,

"Oh!" He gasped, faltering on a hammer strike before he dropped the metal into the fire, he wiped his brow a moment and regarded her with an appraising look, "You must be the Squire, I outfitted that leather for you,"

"Thank you," She said, "I am Rey, you are?"

"Beirgrund, but they call me Bear," He stuck out a hand for her to shake, he had a strong grasp, "The stable hand told me to expect you, you ever work for a knight before?"

"An old one, a long time ago," Rey took a glance at the forge, uninterested in sharing details about herself. "How long have you worked for Sir Ren?"

"A winter cycle or two, I mostly fix his dented armor and craft a few fletchings," He shrugged as though it were nothing, "I suppose you will be handling his weaponry and armor from now, I should teach you what to look for,"

"That would be most helpful," Rey nodded in agreement, taking a thin liking to the boy, undoubtedly younger than herself.

"With the sun we will begin, there is much to prepare until then," Beirgrund scratched his temple with a dirty hand, smearing his face, "You hail from Jakku, 'tis a long journey, head inside to the kitchens, they will feed and clothe you, and show you where to bathe and sleep,"

Rey nodded her understanding, moving to depart the forge, "When will Sir Ren return?" She asked on thought,

"Late night," The boy answered, gripping the molten metal again, preparing his hammer, "Do not expect an audience until morn."

It was indeed a fortress, one deserving of a name more suitable than the Ren Estate, her filthy boots, and person dragging a trail of dust through the carpeted and marble flooring. The interior was a fine clash of a manor meant to entertain and to house a field hospital and battlements. Displays of drapes, flags of each province, and ceremonial armors were regularly sighted on display in each hall. Wings divided between master, guests, and servants. The kitchens, where Rey sat awaiting a lukewarm meal, were well built and stuffed with rare herbs and spices, dyes, and foods.

A wooden bowl was placed into her tired hands, no spoon, at glance, it seemed to be wet oats, but the waft of cream and salt spoke of a higher delicacy. When last had she tasted fresh cream from a cow? Her lips stuck to the lip of the bowl until there was nothing left, dipping her fingers against the bottom to scrape up anything she might have missed, earning disgusted upturns in response.

An older woman, whose name she could not pronounce, led her in broken English to the rooms and baths, a bundle of clothing in her old arms. The wooden door was shut soundly behind her, and she found herself alone in the fortress for the first time.

Her eyes, though heavy, sharpened on every shadow of the room, the marble floors, and the dancing glow of the fireplace and candles. Nothing seemed out of place as her feet moved toward the iron-laden window, the sun had long since dipped beyond the horizon, the darkness of the forest beyond threatened to devour the moon and stars above.

How ominous.

Rey undressed swiftly, trying not to frown at the stench of her dirty clothing, and sunk slowly into the warmed water. It had only been used once or twice, she surmised by the kitchen ladies, there was no usual muck of a hard worker.

Her palms made quick work of the tough dirt and mud on her skin, digits worming between toes to ease the gunk, dragging through knotted hair and removing oil build-up.

The water was worse for wear when she arose. Cleaner and more presentable, she donned her new clothing, wrapping herself and adjusting for the best presentation as a young man, she stepped out of the bathroom and to the laundry. She would need to learn to wash her own garments, no doubt the kitchen staff were just as nosey as she.

Her room was rather large for a servant, though, she supposed it was due to being a Squire. It seemed the Knight had done a bit of preparing for her, though, at second glance, all books and papers were thin with dust. A previous Squire then, gone for some reason.

Her new leather was first to stand up, propped on an armor stand beside the bed slab, it was rather good craftsmanship, even from a young man. She made a note to cherish it for as long as she could, nice things were scarcely afforded in her line of work, she would make it last.

Her bedroll and pack lay on the floor in the corner, her coin purse a few coins lighter for provisions she missed, she searched for an appropriate hiding spot. Her fingers searched for an empty tile, most Squires were smart enough to hide what little coin they made, the last one must have had-there

Her fingers dug under the tile lip, discovering a decent-sized hollow. A few things were left behind, matches, candles, writing material. Her fingers plucked the crumpled pages from the hole, eyes narrowing at the sight of ink. Journals perhaps? Letters to a loved one? She set them aside and looked again, a few nicely shaped and colored rocks also sat in the hole, perhaps mementos from travel with the Knight? Rey smiled softly, though unaware of the fate of the last Squire, she would keep them, things that she would find herself collecting back at Jakku.

Her coin purse and some preserved flowers went in a piece of fabric from her childhood, and her first cut of hair. They were small things, but they were hers, important in their own way, without value to others.

She slid the tile back over, listening to the small slap of marble before letting her eyes rest on the bed slab.

It took a long moment for her to take it in, because despite it being a wooden pallet, it held furs and woven sheets for her to use, a feathered pillow, though rumpled, sat waiting for her use. Had she ever experienced such luxury? Few times, none were in a state that she could enjoy.

Slowly, she moved and rolled her travel burnt body to the blankets, and let out a low, soft breath to relax her muscles. Reflexively, her mind began to catalog all she had seen and learned in the span of a sen-night, but the moment her eyes shut, a darkness consumed her senses.

Daylight came swift, heavy, and loud as the slamming of grand doors near the entrance hall. Rey sat up, alert as voices grew loud and close, the heavy clinking of boots and dented metal near her door. She stood quickly and inspected her leathers as the door swung open, she turned, acting as though she had been up some time, and dipped her head in submission.

"Squire, we travel in two days' time to the Hoth province, I will arrange for a suitable cloak and travel rolls. Your duty is to prepare my armor, swords, horse, and your own provisions in this time. I expect you to craft your own weapon, or purchase one from the smithy, am I clear?"

"Yes Sir," She said, reeling from the information, travel? So soon under his watch? The Knight lingered in the room a moment, eyeing her and belongings behind the mask, then he turned his hips for the door, feet following, "I will call you to my chambers for undressing," She dipped her chin lower, waiting for her door to close before staring at the space he once stood.

She understood suddenly, why many folks found the Knight intimidating. His words were exacting, his commands straight and confident, his instruction left little room for misinterpretation. He was a true commander. In some ways, she admired that in him.

She spun on her heel, righting her clothes and making a mental task list in her mind. She would need to draft a letter of her situation to her informants, they might think her missing, and she still required situational updates every sen-night of the castle ongoings. Her next raven was expected on the morrow, she would prepare a letter the night before.

Gathering her person, she moved for the kitchens, discussing necessary provisions for the trip, the time it would take was unknown, and she did not want issues on the slopes of ice. The kitchen made a small fuss of her request but got to work quickly after her departure, murmuring amongst themselves as they cooked and salted.

Bear was next, the smithy was waiting for her, and with her task of crafting or purchasing her own weapon, she could not start her small apprenticeship soon enough.

He gave her a toothy grin when he saw her, waving his hammer in greeting, "Good Morn,"

"Yes," Rey agreed, taking in the hunk of metal that now resembled a sword.

"It's for you," Rey blinked,

"I cannot,"

"You can and you will," Beirgrund said, he looked up at her, "It will last you longer than the previous Squire, consider it a well-wishing gift," He continued to pound and shape the metal through his words, occasionally heating it again. Surprised, but not about to deny the young man again, she nodded, "Then tell me where to start,"

Her willingness to work was rewarded, she got to work tempering small pieces of armor, and shaping metal chinks to link up suits. Leathering and tanning were already familiar, so instead, he showed her to use a grindstone to sharpen small blades and arrows. She sat and pedaled until her leg grew tight when she heard her name, she looked over the field toward the fortress at a servant waving for her.

Sir Ren was not a patient man, surprising, given his strategic prowess. Though he had been in that armor for an undisclosed amount of time, perhaps he had a right to be irate.

Rey ducked her head and worked straight for the clasps of his gauntlets, bracing his forearm with the side of her body, she twisted the braided metal and leather off, setting it to the side carefully. The faint scent of bloodied iron filled the air with each piece and she grew confused, was the Knight injured? The clasps and ties for his chest piece came away easily, her fingers never leaving his body as she moved around to his back.

It was like an odd dance, one she could vaguely remember learning, a silent one that demanded all her senses and coordination. A partner who was stiff and tired, stepping on her toes.

Sir Ren was the one to remove his helmet, and for a moment, Rey was struck by it.

Nothing had ever described his person.

It was easy to forget that a man lay hidden under the dented armor, regardless of his brutality, his skin said as much with its fair glow.

Rey took his helmet, and shouldered on his armor without a word, lugging it to the blacksmiths to be cleaned and reshaped, tempered, and shined.

"Squire," She stopped mid-stride, and regarded him, "See to it that you live longer than a fortnight under my care," She dipped her chin once, and left for the smith.

Even used to exertion, starvation, and running for hours, her breaths came in short pants and brow coated with sweat by the time she could set down the armor. Bear gave her a smirk and boasted as she wiped her brow, "The best thing my father ever made, heavy armor reinforced with the bones of slain beasts, his people believed it would enchant the armor and ensure victory in battle,"

"Sounds like whispers of magic to me," Rey teased, catching her breath and setting out each piece,

"Sir Ren has yet to lose a battle," Bear pointed out, before continuing his work. The shop was filled with idle chatter from then, as the sun climbed toward its zenith in the sky, one of the kitchen servants brought out cold meats and hardened bread. An apple, was also on the tray for the pair to share. Rey silently wondered if she should grovel at the feet of the cooks for their kindness.

The duo ate in the stables providing company to the horses, who were resting after long journeys. Shoveling hay and grain, cleaning stalls, and checking shoes before preparing the tack area for travel again.

Before long, there wasn't much else Rey was trained to do, and Beirgrund was left to hammer away at his creations. The armor, though tempered and restored, was still filthy, it needed a scrub, and smelled strongly of bowels. Armed with a brush and dry soap, she got to cleaning, realizing too late that the scent of blood was soaked leather. Her new garments quickly became stained with the fluid much to her despair.

In the evening, Sir Ren gave her a long and unsettling look as she returned his clean and fixed armor, "What happened to your rags boy?"

"The blood from your armor Sir," She answered, and dipped her head to leave,

"You will eat in my chambers tonight, and bathe after I do,"

"Sir?" She asked, surprised at the request,

"Take meal with me and we will discuss Hoth," He clarified, leaving her to nod and continue cleaning her personal effects and finish her evening duties.

The meal with Sir Ren was... tense. Air charged with the anticipation of a battle, of a long journey, and the threat of never returning from the danger of Hoth. 

That was, neither Sir Ren nor Rey had an idea of what they were up against, let alone what they were to be searching for. All letters and information from the King were bare-bones at best, and unusable at worst. All that was known was the threat of the climate killing you in a vicious blizzard, or whatever strange happenings Sir Ren was needed for. 

Thus brought about another matter, Rey the boy Squire was suited for extreme heat environments and dry spells, never before had she encountered snow long enough to suffer from it. She would require extra protection from the elements, and double on water and preserves. She could see, after this was brought up, that Sir Ren had become disappointed, she sought to change that inclination. 

Hoth was the frosted and dark province to the far north. It was large and covered a range of sheer cliffs and jagged mountain passes, many merchant routes were abandoned, and those in use were crawling with low lives, bandits, and scavengers native to the snow. 

The weather was another concern, dry in its own right, home to immortal glacier patches and dense forests that would kill you in its darkness, sudden ice storms and cold snaps, avalanches, and rock slides. Just venturing through the territory to the nearest village was a partial death sentence. 

This was a task taken up only by the most experienced survivalists, and while Rey had a burning determination to finish her personal agenda, her body would hold her back. While Sir Ren marked and showed her to use a map, her fists curled in her lap, white-knuckled in the face of natural adversity. 

It was interesting, however, to study the Black Knight as he planned, he was a cautious and experienced man, she had little doubt that he knew each province at heart. It made him a powerful asset, if not useful in war, his knowledge and experience would make him a very powerful adviser in war or external affairs. 

At last, late in the evening by the wick burnt candles, all plates and bowls were empty of creamed oats for Rey, and a fine selection of meats for Sir Ren, the Knight stood straight, spine cracking to relieve weight. He sighed, "Prepare yourself and the horses tomorrow, we depart the following morning, I expect you to be ready," Rey dipped her head in a nod, lowering her eyes to the ground as she gathered the cutlery and platters, and left the Knights chambers for the evening. 

The following day was filled with final preparations, the kitchen supplied wrappings of cured meats and fresh cheeses, soft and hardened loaves of bread, and a small pouch of dried and fresh fruits. There was something surprising tucked in the bundle of provisions as well, a jar of preserves, dark and tangy, filled with crushed seeds and cooked fruit. A jam perhaps? How luxurious of them. 

Each saddlebag was slowly filled with coins, writing material, rations, extra clothing, and a sleeping bundle for each. A waterskin and extras would be stored by the bundle at the rear of the saddle. Both horses were checked for shoes and injury, brushed, fed, and warmed for the coming voyage. 

Midday came quickly, and with it, Rey's sword. Her eyes widened appreciatively, as Beirgrund dropped the heavy bone and iron in her grasp. It shone like the stars, inlay with crushed bone and charcoal, it slid like a charm into the scabbard, she nearly cried with gratitude. 

"It's beautiful," she praised, tying the sword about her waist, and then adjusting it about her back and shoulders, she was much to small for its length. 

"It's a short sword, you will grow into it, a dirk or dagger might serve you better," 

"Have you considered making a staff?" Rey questioned, her mind filled with possibilities of being reunited with a weapon she lost. Bear frowned, considering it a moment. 

"Perhaps not entirely of metal and bone, but I could tinker," He supplied, the thought was enough to satisfy the woman, and she offered a smile in thanks. Resting her hand on the pommel, she took a look about the forge, "We are headed for Hoth, are there materials or ores that you might need that are otherwise unobtainable?" Bear's eyebrows quirked a moment, then he nodded. 

"There is a material I have been fixing on for some time, it grows in the glacial caves of Hoth, it is called Kyber, very powerful, durable even against crushing blows. I would like to craft something for Sir Ren, completion of my father's blue prints before his passing." 

"Kyber, is it sold?" 

"It is rather costly, better to scavenge or mine it yourself, I shall lend you my ax, if you come across it," He tuned and rummaged through his pile of used tools by the forge, "It is said to have a spiritual effect on the wielder, much like the bone magic in weapons and armor, it is said to sing to those worthy of finding it, and to harmonize with the wielder of its choosing," 

"Sounds like more magic to me," Rey jested, smiling at the small pieces of history and culture the boy gave her, "What does it look like?" 

"A white crystal, you will know it when you find it," He turned and handed her an iron axe, the wooden handle engraved with runes and pictures. A family heirloom she surmised and grasped it with respect. 

"I'll do my best, I enjoy seeing your work Bear," Rey bowed her head in respect before returning to the horses. 

The kitchen lady had pulled her in when evening touched, a request of her own written on an old cloth, "You know to read?" She asked, and continued without acknowledgment, "Fish from the north is hard to come by, a luxury, Sir Ren must be rewarded upon his return with a feast," The cloth was passed to Rey, a detailed description of the fish, and directions on where to find a rod. She would have been miffed at being tasked herself, but she was too interested in the idea of fishing, she had never done so, and had never seen a body of water large enough for life. 

In her rooms, she determined one thing about Sir Ren. It was that the people who served under him either owed him a great deal of gratitude, or they feared him deeply. 

While she could not determine that he was  _ not  _ a man of his people, she could not also confirm that he was, and his enigmatic behavior puzzled her. 

The challenge of deciphering Sir Ren's behaviors was sure to slight her and come back to be her undoing if she wasn't careful. 

She found herself completing her final task of the night, sitting at a wooden desk that belonged to the previous Squire, she pulled out parchment and an inkwell, her own feathered vulture quill dipped softly into the heated and separated ink, tapping against the pot a moment before she began to write. 

_ It is in the interest of my life that my location remain hidden, as I have accepted a personal endeavor that requires my full attention, letters from you, my scouts and informants, remain most valuable to me. Information is wealth, and I would share it.  _

_ The Resistance has lost a storehouse, and a major weapons supply in Jakku, the group has shown stilted movement since. Infiltrate the alleys and bars of Chandrilla, gather information on a Resistance informant with the following visage, "tall and well-muscled, tanned skin and curled locks of midnight, green eyes and a straight nose" _

_ Any information on the identity and whereabouts of this individual are paramount to gaining an in to Resistance operations. I will select a voluntary group to infiltrate the Resistance once sufficient information has been gathered.  _

_ Burn this letter after reading, pass the order on by word.  _

_ Remain vigilant.  _

Slowly, she lowered her quill and dried the ink over a candle, burning the page just so as legitimacy to her informants. Then she rolled the script, tying it with a brunt thread from under her hidden tile. Both markings were needed if her informants were to trust the letter. 

She made way to the stables with the parchment, touching the noses of the mares as she waited for muted sounds of feathers. A raven, as she expected had been lounging about the stables since her arrival, its beak clicking and scraping against the wooden fence as she approached. If it did not know the letter or her face, another would. The bird took it and departed quickly, leaving Rey to retire for the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magic will be mentioned a few times throughout, but it will not be a driving force. There are no surprise Force powers or special connections between people. I do believe it helped instill a mysticism within each character, to believe in something otherworldly at least in battle. 
> 
> Either way, please let me know what you think, I hope you enjoy the chapter.


	3. A Tenderness In Your Violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey to Hoth is a long one, and Rey earns a new name.

Sleep did not come easy, and though her muscles strained against her after the prolonged stillness, she rose early with heavy eyes and a clear mind. She donned her leathers with care, clasping each piece in place with the tenderness held for small animals. 

The door to her chambers opened as she clasped her gloves in place, her body turned to face the dark visage of the Knight. He stood in the doorway, towering over her from a distance, his face unreadable in the dance of candle flame. 

"Sir?" She spoke, clearing her throat from a groggy film, and yet her voice did not shake him from cloudy eyes or deep thoughts. She finished with her leathers before turning to face him evenly, it was only then that he blinked and seemed to really look at her. 

A fact that made her stiffen with nerves. 

"You look gaunt, boy, eat a creamed oat bowl before we depart, then, meet me in my chambers to dress my armor," He then turned, walking quietly and swiftly. Suddenly, Rey realized she would not wish his silent regard on anyone unable to stand it, as she felt utterly disarmed under his gaze. 

She inhaled her bowl of cream and oats, alone by the embers of the kitchen oven, she ate until her belly filled with discomfort. A warning, as she needed to avoid eating regularly, lest her identity be revealed. Less food meant a hidden full set of lips, a roundness to her otherwise sharp cheeks and jaw, softness in hard curves of muscle around her hips and chest. 

She could not eat, lest she appears female once again. 

Sir Ren was waiting in his chambers, checking over the weight of his sword and personal effects she had not been allowed to touch. He regarded her silently for a moment, before his dark voice penetrated the air, "Are you scared, boy?" 

"No Sir, it will take more than snow to kill me," The Knight seemed to laugh inwardly, a curl to his plush lips, 

"Are you of any use with that sword?" He asked, taking a sip of what seemed to be wine from a goblet, 

"Plenty enough, Sir," 

"Good," He stepped closer, towering over her with wide shoulders and coiled muscle, "I expect you to defend your life with it, and mine if such a chance arises," 

"Yes sir," Rey dipped her head, afraid of his heated gaze discovering her through her own orbs. She looked towards his armor, ready to escape his scrutiny. 

Sir Ren seemed to ease away at the sight of fear, and stood rather still, awaiting the Squire to finish her task. Now that his armor had been tempered, restored, and scrubbed clean, he appeared pristine and formidable. With the regular scrape of metal and every breath, he appeared ready for bloodshed. 

Perhaps that was the intent behind such resigned armor. He looked more devil than man with his face concealed. 

The kitchen servants and the smithy saw them out, waving their respects as they mounted the mares. 

In the distance, Rey could make out the shape of the mountains. Dark clouds collected atop and behind them, and a haze worked to conceal everything but their size. A storm was brewing, and they could not avoid it. Their journey would take them several days, the village in the mountains was the final stop before the sighted activities. Already, Rey anticipated returning to a warm pallet of wood. 

The first night of camp was split into watch, though Rey got a distinct feeling that the Knight did not trust her to sleep. Even with the steady rise and fall of his chest, his body was too taught to rest. She kept busy by poking and feeding the fire. 

When they arrived at the outskirts of Hoth, the frost from the ground did not lift, and a thick fog dug into anything within. Sir Ren had dropped a thick fur and skin cloak on her and tied one about himself before leading the way to the mountain pass. 

Slowly, as the fog engulfed them, the world around them fell silent. The air once filled with birdsong was only home to the soft breaths and steps of the horses, the occasional snap of a tree nearby, the falling of rocks on risen rock surfaces. 

All while the air grew steadily colder. 

The muscles shuddered beneath her skin, her hair standing and goose flesh prickled beneath her armor, Rey was cold. Her teeth clenched together as she fought off the chattering, her puffs of hot air gathering on her face covering, icing over before her next exhale. Her fingers burned from exposure, through this, the Knight seemed unaffected, and she pondered his ability to warm himself. 

Then, his gauntlet hand lifted, slowing both horses as he silently gestured her observance. The reason for stopping was a tree and snowbank build on the path. They would have to go around quite a way to continue. The possibility of bandits was afoot, and the Knight seemed hesitant to play their games. 

Irritation bloomed along Rey's skin, teeth clenched for a different reason, she did not have time for things like bandits. The movement of the Knight stayed her tongue, he was preparing for a fight. Slowly he dismounted, the grace she had once seen restored in his figure. 

Snow crunched softly below as he led them on foot around the obstruction, one hand gripping his sword in its scabbard, the other gently guiding the reins to Legacy. He spoke so low through his mask she almost didn't hear it, "Do not make a sound," He warned, voice hard with little room to argue, "They will kill the horses first, you must get them away, and onto the mountain pass, I will find you. Make camp for the night where we planned, and bury me if I do not return."

Surprise rocked her chest, she had thought this man invincible, yet he planned his death before facing a small band of cutthroats? Still, unable to disobey, she took the reins of Legacy and tied them to her saddle strap, following the dark Knight through the falling snow. 

Her eyes searched the surrounding forest, and scanned the upper ridge for signs of life or movement and found none. If it truly were bandits, they had done this to perfection. 

A low whistle and snap sounded, and her horse cried out, rearing. 

Rey hissed, spitting curses in her Jakku lit before steering the horses into a gallop. Sir Ren unsheathed his long sword and waited, crouched in the snow like a hunter as she got further away. The horses whined and cried as they raced, slipping on the rough rocky path, uncoordinated in their escape, the animals failed to see the bandit that jumped from behind a rock. 

Rey did not. 

She yanked the reins, grunting and forcing the horses to turn, pulling out her own sword as she spun out of her saddle. 

In a swift moment, her feet found the bandits chest, her sword split his throat a mere breath later. 

Blood coated the bottom of her boots, and seeped into her sword, the bones devouring the iron of an enemy. The cold ground below glistened and steamed, and Rey pulled her weapon away. 

She turned back to face the battle below, the horses calmed from their hysteria and returned to her side. Limping and skittish but alive. 

Below, her eyes took in the morbid beauty of the Knight. 

His footwork was marvelous, twisting and anchoring his body, providing flexibility in the slush of red snow. Steam rose from the cracks in his heavy armor, his darkened blade nearly invisible with the speed he swung it. A man's head rolled, another skewered behind the Knight. All of them fell quickly. 

Soon, all was silent, the gush and scent of blood all that was left. Bodies were already being encased by snow and ice, their life force depleted swiftly. 

Waiting amidst the bodies, the Knight cleaned his sword with a scoop of snow as Rey and the horses returned. Despite his victory and the overall health of the party, his next words to her were not kind, "What part of run do you not understand boy?" 

Stunned into silence, Rey gaped, she had run, and then she had killed a bandit and returned. Was that not sufficient? 

"I do not tolerate disrespect, nor a blatant disregard to my orders," The Black Knight stood straight, speckles of blood sparkling on the metal armor. Her eyes were drawn to it, even in his harsh tone, "Dismount your horse," He commanded. 

Her eyes snapped to his mask, alarm coursing through her veins. Did he intend to punish her? She swallowed, throat squeezing, if he struck her, she steeled herself for a silent receipt. 

The snow squelched beneath her leathers, the iron lay absorbing the pink slush as she waited. 

Vibrating with fury, he approached, eating up the cold sunlight on her face in his shadow. His grip was swift about her jaw, lifting her to her toes, "Do not mistake my orders as a value to your life," He warned, "What is the price for your disobedience?" He demanded, she felt his hot breath on her face, even through the steel. Should she respond?

"There was a bandit, I slew him, before the horses-" She gasped, forced to the ground, her face pressed in the snow beside the decapitated bandit. Her eyes widened, her body tense, "Tell me what you see," He growled from above her, and she wet her lips against the sting of ice. 

"A shattered bone, but clean tendons, a rip at the hollow of the throa-" 

"Lick it," He demanded, forcing her head closer to the crimson puddle that still leaked from the body. Her eyes flicked back to the Knight, horrified and sickened, wondering if he would kill her for denying him a second time. 

"Sir-"

"You wanted a taste of battle, it is all I can consider for disobeying me, then taste the fruit of battle.  _ Lick. it. _ " 

Her stomach rolled, and bile burned the back of her tongue. She refused. She was not a slave, she was an apprentice, she would be treated a such. She was a thief, a cheater, a cutthroat, a murderer, a good actress, she would act the part in her ferocity, this submission tiresome. 

He must have seen the hardening of her gaze because his body tensed atop her. 

Snow went flying, her bare fists slamming into the hardened metal at the side of his head, stunning him, ripping open the soft flesh of her knuckles. 

His grip loosened, she scrambled, her body weight thrown on him. 

They tumbled into the snow, his clawed gauntlets digging into her leathers like a vice, trying to rip away at the tanned animal skin. Her own frostbitten digits dug into the soft space by his pulse and airway, nails scraping until she heard him stutter a breath. 

She did not wish to kill him, nor die in the snow by his hand, no he was still useful, but she resigned herself to never working for him again. 

Her body was tossed once he gripped between her legs, her gasp and shock had disarmed her, her legs twisting in the snow as he struggled to pin her. 

"Be still!" He commanded, and she listened, cheeks reddened with rage and exertion, were he not useful, she would have killed him when her fingers blocked his throat. 

They lay there, panting, and once again she knew he was scrutinizing her, studying her closely, but this time, she could do little to hide. 

A low sound filled the air between them, a rhythmic rasp of a chuckle, she glared through his mask. The bastard was laughing. "For a dainty fellow, you put a fight like a feral cat," His grip on her body loosened and he leaned back on his haunches, "You remind me of my Knights, Squire," She did not take that as the compliment he intended. 

The Knight rose to his feet, hauling Rey up with him, shoving her to the horses as he spoke, "Were I allowed to take an apprentice, you would be first, I knew there was something I saw in you," He moved to mount Legacy, untying her reins from the saddle. 

"Let us go, Squire, we have much ground to cover." 

In the hours of the voyage in the mountains that followed, Rey stared hard at the open wounds of her knuckles and considered, perhaps Sir Ren had a battle lust. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, I've got one chapter left to write and this will be completed. I've done some format editing, please let me know how it looks.


	4. Something Of Mine That Was Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey meets the Tico sisters and a horned bear.

The village they plotted was nothing more than a tent city much like Niima outpost in Jakku, fires and torches sat undisturbed and roaring with fervor, people wrapped thick in furs traveled between tents, arguing, laughing, cooking. It was what seemed to be a mostly isolated community. 

A warrior, by the spear and bow on his back, a tribal people's leader, greeted Sir Ren with a strange air of kinship. Rey dismounted and tended to the sustained injury on her horse. 

Their tribal language was guttural and short, snappy like a snake in its hole. She could decipher very little of it, and instead resigned herself to digging an arrow from the thigh of her poor mare. A fresh coat of blood dribbled around her fingers, a pack of snow in her other hand soothing the steaming liquid. She dropped the arrow and ripped a small tuft of clean fabric to stuff into the hole she carved out. Her horse made small noises and pants, twisting to butt her shoulder in what could have been frustration or gratitude. 

All through this, the blood on her hands grew thick and sticky under her blunted nails, and she thought about the ease of her new sword slicing through the throat of that bandit. 

Bone magic he said. Rey looked down at the pommel of her sword and frowned. 

A small body warmed her leg, and she looked to her side. 

A child wrapped in thickened furs and woven materials gazed up at her with some strange awe. A little hand outstretched to Rey's, fingers grasping. The woman hadn't a clue what the girl wanted, was she alone without a home? Or did she simply desire attention? 

Laughter pulled her gaze, and the Chieftain-Knight pair moved to join her side. She rather liked the face of the native, his face round and full of mirth. She tried not to give the Knight her attention. 

"You are called Rey, a Knight in training, welcome, a guest of my friend is a guest to me," His strange sentence struck her as warm, and she offered a polite nod in response. The Chieftain smiled, turning to Sir Ren, "You will share my biggest tent, the fire is warm, the horses will be fine beside a flap, come, come, we hunger for your journey."

Soon, Rey, Sir Ren, the Chieftain, little girl, and several other members of the tribe all sat in a circular shape around a large fire. 

The flames before them washing away the frostbite outside, casting the illusion of steady heat and comfort when death was on the other side of the tent flap. 

The banisters were decorated with threads and woven charms, bones and wooden carvings, beads, and feathers intertwined into effigy statues and figures. Oil and charcoal pictures painted the walls until there was little room for the tan animal skin wall to show through. Each picture a story in their way of life. 

Glad to be out of her leathers and into something more comfortable, Rey took in the large assortment of foods before her, happy to ingest something other than tough rations. Her stomach clenched painfully at the thought of dried meat, and she slowly reached for a carved cup of alcohol. 

The Knight too was relaxed among friends, helmet, and armor long since removed in tense silence, he had avoided catching her gaze since their squabble. It was impossible to tell if it was because he was testing her, or if it made him nervous. Either way, she had a moment to do what she did best. Watch, listen and gather information. 

Hours passed, laughter careened, shouting tales of hardship and victory lagged on, and the roaring fire waned. A pleasant warmth sat in Rey's chest, coating her cheeks in a light blush. 

A woman had long since fallen asleep in her lap, having mistaken Rey for an actual young man. The Squire's surprised response had earned many jeers and harassment from the men, though, inwardly, it was an excellent addition to the ruse of being a young man in the presence of Sir Ren. 

Long into the night, when many patrons had left for their own tents or fallen asleep right there, the Knight and Chieftain spoke in murmured tones to each other, that strange dialect filling the air.

Heavy lidded, and warm from the heat of a fire, alcohol, and another, she stretched her spine and lay back into the ceremonial blankets below, allowing sleep to come for the first time in days. 

It was not uncommon for voices to drag Rey from slumber, long was she used to the early skittering of footsteps outside her tent, scheming whispers, and low laughter. It was uncommon, however, for her name to be included in the conversation. 

Eyes shut, she listened in, picking up the native language from voices she did not recognize. The woman beside her was gone, but everything else was attached to her person. If she could just get her sword without attracting them. 

A hand closed around her mouth, startling her, eyes open and wild she glared at a masked figure. 

Shock and confusion rippled through her, she had never seen an ornate one before, horns and bones of animals decorated the edges around the person's face, feather plumes stuck out of woven hair, it would have been fascinating if a blade wasn't touching her throat. 

She did not squirm, did not scream, she knew the process of a kidnapping. 

Another masked figure shoved her to her stomach, tying her wrists and moving to bind her mouth. Rey bit the ropes hard between her teeth, watching her assailants carefully. 

The back of her mind wondered the location of Sir Ren. 

Rey did not need the Black Knight, if he saved her now, her intelligence was good as dirt, no, she needed to see where they were taking her, learn key words in their language. Why her, specifically? 

Alarm bells rang in her mind, could this have been the suspicious activity they were to investigate? Was it a setup? 

Body vibrating with rage, even as she was shoved outside in the dark of night, she put up just enough resistance to look good. 

Her horses were untouched, personal belongings still wrapped on the saddles. Her sword was gone, back in the tent, and with the amount of crunching behind her, backward was the last place she wanted. 

There was a cart, and horses in the distance, another masked individual sat waiting at the front, playing with the reins as if bored. 

Since her awakening, the intruders had not communicated verbally, which would pose an eventual problem, and suggested that they had orchestrated this knowing of her keen eyes and ears. 

Had one of her informants been compromised? Murdered? Had they been tortured to reveal her identity? Unlikely, but the thought made her gut churn with worry for her people. 

Her shoulder and head smacked against the wooden cart floor, they did not seem to care about her physical state. A quick glance around told her they didn't care for the others in the tribe. She was the only one. 

The wagon rocked and pushed through the snow and ice, cold fingers pried the bitten rope from her jaw and hoisted her up. Rey stared blankly at her captors, waiting for one of them to speak. 

Slowly, the trio exchanged glances between each other, before the masked pair removed their coverings. 

An eyebrow rose high into her hairline.

"I am called Rose," The soft one began,

"I am called Paige," The thinner one continued,

"And you, you are Rey," Rose gushed softly, fingertips touching the Squires face in awe. 

"What do you want with me," 

"No, no no no," Paige began, 

"You misunderstand," Rose finished, pushing a lock of dark hair behind her ear, "We are here to serve you," Rey twitched inwardly, confused, but maintained a stony expression. 

"I am just a Squire," 

"A spymaster," Rose cooed, 

"An assassin," Paige whispered, 

"A nobody," Rey pushed, 

"Yes," The two strange women hushed, Rey blinked. 

"You are in a unique position, mistress Rey," Rose sold, her cold eyes sharp with something sinister, 

"At the seat of a dead throne, and apt to take it," Paige fed in, and Rey shuddered. 

"I am an urchin from Jakku," Rey pressed, whatever they were on about was insanity. 

"Remain that way, outwardly," Rose leaned in, nose brushing Reys, breath soft and fluttery like a bee on her lips. A foreign heat blossomed in her loins, and she looked to Paige, prompting a continuation from what appeared to be the older of a twin pair. 

"Inwardly, you are heir to an emperor's long-vacant throne, a kingdom raised and burned to the ground, removed from history. But Alistar Snoke knows," Paige smiled slowly, "He knows the truth of your history, Rey," 

"I have no use to a past that had abandoned me," Rey hissed bitterly, 

"Not abandoned," Rose hushed, eyes wide with that strange empty sorrow, "Preserved, the last of the bloodline, the last of a sacred power, a divine right," 

"I have little desire to rule," Rey pressed, her chest fluttering with the weight of their words, she desired proof of their accusations. She could not go on a word. She looked between the twins, "I need proof, I am not who you say I am," 

"Alistar Snoke," Paige hissed, grabbing and tying her mask on, 

"Snoke fears the blackened roses in his garden, a history to be demolished, find him, Mistress,  _ find him _ ." 

Her binds were cut in an instant, and her body lurched from the back of a wagon. She didn't have time to dodge the rock that split her brow and force-fed her darkness. 

What felt like minutes could have been hours, Rey jolted to consciousness under a thin blanket of snow. Alone in the middle of a mountain pass, she took a moment to be grateful for the kindest weather Hoth had given her before sitting up with a slow grunt. 

Her eye was sealed shut with dried and frozen blood, her head tender, and her wrists raw. She was exposed to the elements without her furs or leathers, she needed to return to the tribe. 

A low wheeze fell from her lips, her feet and hands without feeling. She did not spare a glance downward, already knowing the bright red extremities were turning blue and purple. She needed warmth, or she would die. 

Shuffling slowly through the snow, she followed the light scent of smoke back to camp. Her body was stiffer with each step and more resistant to each inhale. Her vision already impaired, grew worse by the minute. 

It was then that she remembered Sir Ren's words to her, his apathy toward her survival. 

A bitter smile spread over her face, but she did not feel like falling and sleeping in the white blanket of snow. She missed the sword that Bear had earned her. 

A snap and loud huff sounded to her left, a distance, but too close for comfort. Without looking, she knew what the sound belonged to. While preparing for the voyage to Hoth, Sir Ren had taught her of all the local wildlife and those that she was likely to encounter. 

This one happened to be a horned bear, vicious, and without hesitation, the moment it saw her it would charge. 

Slowly, breath escaped her lips, the fog watering her eyes before she took another step toward camp. It was foolish, but the closer she got to others who had weapons, the better chance she had at living. 

Survival was always her base function. 

The sudden stillness of the air gave her pause, and she held her breath. A slow creeping heat bloomed in the base of her skull, and she turned to stare at an animal that had spotted her. 

Run. 

Her frozen feet struggled to find purchase in powder snow, vulnerable to the climate against the specialized predator. 

It was gaining on her, so quickly that its weight crushing the snow became cracks of ice and the splintering of trees that it shoved by. Rey gasped, eye wide with panic for the first time, and she almost acknowledged her fate. 

A gauntlet-ed hand yanked her off her feet, displacing the bear, and revealing the mask of the Black Knight. 

She loathed that he saved her. 

And she was ever grateful. 

His sword swung wickedly against the beast, catching one of the horns by the edge. The roar that resounded made her chest constrict, though she was already seeing black spots from the cold. 

Sir Ren stepped over her crumpled and frozen wet body, twisting and catching the beast in the horn again. It dug deep enough that he was rewarded with a spurt of blood and a responding snarl.

It took moments, but the Knight was not prepared, distracted by the uneven movements of his Squire, the horned bear lunged into the Knights armored frame. 

Rey, hardly aware of her surroundings, vision cloudy and rapidly darkening, saw his dark frame fly into a tree, and struggle to get up. 

Her body reacted. 

Perhaps it was because her mind eye saw Finn fly into that tree and crumple like a flower, or because of the confusing information that the twins had provided to her, but she found herself spitting curses one moment, to screaming and digging Sir Ren's long sword into the horned bear's shoulder. 

The beast clawed at her, grating open her hip and thigh, struggling as they screamed to each other. Its lifeblood coated her hands, coated her arms, dripped to her clothes. Yet it would not die. 

Rey struggled, screaming once again and jerking her weight into the bear. 

All movement stopped, and the beast crumpled to the snow at her feet. 

Heart hammering in her chest, Rey peeled herself from the grip of the beast and pulled herself along the snow to the Knight. He was still useful to her, he could not die irresponsibly in the snow. Her still healing knuckles smacked against his armor, and she pulled him up with a wheeze. 

He came too as soon as she blacked out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun planning how this chapter would go, lots of concept art came from it, and imagining the Tico sisters like the siamese cats from Lady and the Tramp is what spurred their style of speaking. Please let me know what you think.


	5. Terms Of Engagement and Consequence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey awakens alone, Sir Ren is experiencing a strange line of thought and receives a set of orders from King Snoke.

When Rey awoke, it was to the gentle flicker of a fire pit beside her, and to the tanned hide of a tent above. For a fleeting moment, the sound of shifting sand could be heard, and the tan tent bled into a rusted brown. 

Rey sat up, hissing through her teeth and staring at the woman who stepped through the tent flaps, a breeze of snow behind her.

Not in Jakku then. 

Rey relaxed slightly, taking in her surroundings without extra movement. It was a medical hut, no doubt, as herbs, sigils and other talisman hung from the tent posts, a slow fire crackled in the center, and several other cots, all empty, lined the floor beside her. Dirty rags, a bowl of what was once water, and other containers with a pasty residue sat beside her headspace. 

Someone found her then, in the snow. 

She frowned when the darkened armor of Sir Ren filled the figure of  _ someone _ . 

Teeth clenched when the memory of the hot blood of a horned bear coated her hands. 

Her eyes trailed down to her hands, which rested in her lap, scrutinizing her now sharpened nails, the crust of scrubbed blood under the beds, at the old scabbing on her knuckle. She had been asleep a long time then. 

"Your head no longer swims, I see," A thick lit spoke, and Rey looked up. The native woman was small, but well built for the harsh winter. She had a rounded face, much like the Chieftain, and long darkened hair, braided with beads, bones, and other items for what seemed to be decoration. 

The woman set down a small basin of water, taking her furs off and dumping them in a corner, she took clean cloths from a bag on the other side of the tent. 

"Your name?" Rey asked, 

"Saami," She answered, dipping the dry cloth into the water, wringing it out slowly, "You suffered great damage in the fight with the Na'aku," 

"Na'aku," Rey echoed, "The horned bear?" 

"Indeed," The woman approached and knelt before Rey, wiping off what must have been the scrape of sweat and salt. 

Slowly, the thoughts filtered back in clarity. 

The twins, the message, the bear, Sir Ren. 

Rey frowned, listening to the gentle words of the woman before her, following instructions and stripping slowly. Peeling the stained fabric from her skin, exposing the once infected but recovering claw marks of the bear. 

Rose, and Paige. They had wild suggestions regarding Rey's heritage, dare she wish it true? What could she be, a woman with extravagance at her fingertips, abandoned as a street urchin in the backwater of Niima Outpost? 

Then, the thought that perhaps she was not abandoned as she thought, but hidden, as Rose had suggested. But for what purpose? There were no instructions, no notes, and even a swaddle that she could have had around her was stolen. 

The more she considered the possibility, the more it irked her. 

Even so, her history lies in the mind of Alistar Snoke, a man who seemed to dominate her life whether she was aware or not. 

The twins' last peculiar comment, before Rey was tossed into a rocky snow bank, was the mention of black roses. Did it hint at the royal garden? Or was that phrasing simply another code for his weakness? 

Much as she might desire the assistance of her informants, this was quickly becoming a personal matter, and with the professionalism the twins held, there was a great deal of doubt in anyone's ability to track them down. 

Stinging touches from the caretaker stopped, prompting the patients' attention, "You have been asleep for some time, rest while the fog clears," 

"Where is Sir Ren?" 

"The Black Knight left some days ago," Rey stilled, alarm rocketing through her, "He put you in my care." The woman seemed to understand that Rey needed a moment alone and dipped her head gently before leaving the tent. 

Her only company was the sting of cleaned wounds and the snapping of dying light. 

He left her. 

He had said he cared little for her survival, but her consciousness contradicted the statement, his brazen attack at her  _ defense _ from the bear was a contradiction. So why? 

Rey sniffed and shut that line of thought quickly. 

The ground was hard and unforgiving as she slipped from the cot, her leathers lay in the corner, her sword and scabbard awaiting her grasp. Nevermind the Knight, she was left unsupervised and could stand to do a little adventuring on her own. A letter was unlikely to meet his doorstep before her, she would instead do what they set out to do, and run the errands that Beirgrund had asked of her. 

* * *

A pit of unease sat heavily on the plated chest of Sir Ren. His horse, steadily moving onward, unbothered by the weight of his choice to leave behind his Squire. 

Behind him, the mountains of Hoth boomed with an oncoming storm, the black clouds swirled ominously and seemed to stretch out into the vast sky forever. Distantly, rain pleated the countryside, and forest fog claimed the roads ahead. It would be a long, wet journey, unfit for someone as injured as his squire. 

Even so, every mental path he took, from meditation to reciting his battle oath, brought him back to just how  _ light _ his Squires dead weight had been. Just how furious they fought to survive, the mutilation of the horned bear by the small boys' hands. 

Something about the experience had bothered him, deeply. 

In the Grand Tent, he had awoken to a dead fire, and loneliness, he hadn't noticed the squire was missing until he had returned from relieving himself. 

It was the tracks in the snow, slightly uneven but formative, they had given him pause at the entrance. a glance through the flap at the empty bed furs had been enough, and he donned his armor in pursuit. 

The cart tracks in the muddy snow had been the first indication that his Squire had not just left the encampment, but was perhaps taken. Hours must have passed before the Knight had found something, another indication that sent a wave of alarm through him, even recalling it. 

The snow embankment had been pressed and leaned against a rock face, one that was smattered with blood and scuffing from a body. It took entirely too long for him to track the young man through the snow. From a distance, he saw the limping figure, the stumbles, heard the rasps and gasps, yelps of pain when they stumbled into a tree and nearly didn't rise again. 

Then he heard the bear. 

Next thing he knew, he was stepping above the boy in the snow, sword raised at the ready. 

Darkness had followed soon after. Yet in his brief lapse of weakness, the boy had killed the beast and crumpled atop him in an attempt to take him back to camp. 

The panic that struck him left a pit in his stomach as he left Hoth. The way he sprinted through the knee-high snow, his breaths freezing the helm to his face, the boy, dangling lifelessly in his arms. 

Yet, when the boy lay on the cot, being seen by the Chieftain's daughter, the worry did not dwindle, and the Knight grew restless. 

Even in the presence of battle-worn kin, going into a panic-driven rage was unbecoming. The Black Knight had to leave. 

Still, despite knowing better, the road home was long. 

Upon his return to the estate, the thunderous expression of his Smithy was not something he expected. However brief, the look of unconfined rage on the young man's face at the absence of the Squire was easy to decipher. The young man had grown fond of the new Squire, and while they were not quite dead, the Knight could bring out no words of comfort to the Smithy. 

The boy had very quickly contained his anger with a sharp "Welcome back Sir," before taking apart the tack and saddle. Sir Ren did not linger, and was greeted with a sealed letter in his quarters. 

The parchment was inlaid with detailed engravings and a seal of deep red wax. A message from the king, if the combination was any tell. 

With a grunt of obligation, Ren broke the seal and poured his eyes over the page. 

The message was short, yet he read it several times over, refusing to grasp the new order. 

_ Take Duchess Bazine Netal as a wife by the end of winter, swell her stomach with a babe, seal your loyalty to me, and you shall be rewarded.  _

The Knight swore, dropping the letter as though burned, and scowled at the walls around him. Have a babe? Never. They were vile little things and a harsh reminder of his own youth. He held no desire for a wife, less so for her to be Duchess Netal. 

No, the woman was a late cousin to Alistar Snoke, a distant relative, and down the chain of succession enough for her to pass of age before ever tasting the throne. She was a spoiled woman, assured of her wants, stunningly beautiful on the outside, but a wicked thing on the inside and unbecoming of a lady. 

Even with her parentage, none of his Knights, or himself, would ever desire her more than to get her away from them. 

For a moment, the Knight wondered if the King had intentions to thwart him, sending an insult his way disguised as a woman. Sir Ren shook his head, covering his face with his rough hands and sighed. He would need to send correspondence in return, in acceptance of the order, he had little choice. 

Days was all it took for her carriage to arrive. 

Days of restlessness and quiet, fuming anger, and a sadness in his chest over a Squire, did little to prepare him to greet the Duchess. 

Regardless, when he saw the white horses pulling the engraved dark box he knew he best prepare. Duchess Netal demanded attention, for those about her to fawn over her every word. She required adoring subjects, something that his fortress lacked. 

He stood beside a chambermaid, a new one selected just for the Duchess when the carriage pulled to a halt. On the cloudy day, the grass seemed wilted, the meadow empty of life, and trees swayed ominously in the wind at her approach. 

The door opened slowly, and in all her maroon velvet, out stepped Bazine Netal. 

Her face was powdered to porcelain perfection, her lips stained a deep shade of red, her eyes darkened with khol to match the depth of her midnight hair. And then the intention of her dress was obvious, her gloved hands patting at the gaudy frills as she stepped closer. 

Bazine took one look at the Knight and held out the back of her hand, an expectant look on her smug face, "Sir Ren, how lovely to formally meet you." 

"And you, Lady Netal," The Knight dipped his head and pressed his nose to the top of her wrist, cradling her hand in his a brief moment before stepping back, "Welcome to my home, this is Jess, she will be your handmaiden during your visit," The Black Knight made way to the carriage, to assist the driver with her many cases of things. 

"Oh, Darling, I will be doing much more than visiting," a slow smirk curled her lips, and she glanced at the girl in clean rags beside her, "Come now, we must ready the wardrobe," 

The fortress doors sealed off the smoky voice of Bazine, allowing the Knight to sag against the carriage and sigh ruefully at the cloudy sky. 

The carriage driver tutted and shook his head in sympathy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Me writing this chapter* Moon Knight's "random bullshit go!" 
> 
> Really, going through this document I realized I just made a bunch of things up and added a LOT of OC's. I might end up moving things around later on.


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